


Messed Up

by Wolfcry22



Series: Shame [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Angst, Dean Winchester Angst, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Frustrated Dean Winchester, Frustrated Sam Winchester, Gen, Hopeless Dean Winchester, Hunters & Hunting, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester Being an Idiot, John Winchester Has Issues, Overprotective, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Dean Winchester, References to Drugs, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Angst, Stressed Dean Winchester, Stressed Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Sam Winchester may know that other families have struggles, but he doubts any of them are worse than his family (Based on an episode from the TV Show Shameless)
Series: Shame [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883236
Kudos: 25





	Messed Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a short scene in an episode of Shameless when Carl is talking to Frank about their family. I could see Sam saying the same when he looks around to see how messed up his family is and wonder if everyone else’s families are like his. It’s not an overly long story to add to this verse since I’ve been a little busy, but I’ve had this idea for a bit and just needed to actually write it down.
> 
> Warning for strong language, and heavy reference and depiction of drugs and drug use.

“Sam, I’m home,” Dean called, tossing his keys onto the counter. Although he was just shy of his sixteenth birthday, Bobby often let him drive to his job across town so that he didn’t have to take the bus or walk. Dean was relieved and managed not to draw attention to himself so that no cop would pull him over, although he knew that everyone in town knew who he was and who is father was. That alone would be challenge enough if he was ever caught. 

Dean kicked off his shoes and took one step into the motel room that he shared with his father and brother. What greeted Dean stunned him.

The small dining room table was overthrown and two chairs were laying broken beside it. Glass was broken all over the floor and pieces were even stuck in the wall. John’s bed had been almost overturned with the sheets and pillows tossed in the corner. The counter of the tiny kitchen was coated in a fine white powder. Dean rushed over and swiped a finger across it, feeling the gritty texture between his thumb and forefinger. It only took one minute for Dean to deduce that it wasn’t sugar.

“Shit! Sammy!” Dean rushed over to the sink and washed his hands free of the illicit substance. He had no idea if coke could be absorbed in the skin or through cuts and he didn’t want to find out. Although he was constantly around drugs and alcohol Dean had always tried his best to keep Sam away from it, which in turn meant that he kept himself from it. He knew less about drugs than he claimed and that was proven now more than ever. 

Dean headed into the largest room and was relieved to find Sam sitting on the floor with his back against his bed. His eyes were locked on the carpet, knees brought up his chest and arms wrapped around them as he rocked forward and back. His shaggy hair obscured his face from view, but as Dean drew closer he could tell that Sam had been crying. His shoulders were hunched forward in an attempt to shield himself from whoever may be approaching, not even bothering to look up to find out if it was John or someone else.

“Sam? Sam? Sammy!” Dean laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam instantly bucked back. Dean raised his hands in a show of surrender, palms up and open, deliberately making sure he didn’t make a fist on accident. “Dude, chill, it’s me.”

Confusion shone in Sam’s glassy hazel eyes. “Dean?”

“What the fuck happened, kiddo,” Dean questioned as he kneeled beside Sam, painfully aware that a piece of glass was slicing into his jeans and pricking against his knee. 

Sam turned away from Dean, pivoting his entire body so that his back was facing his brother. “Nothin’.”

“Hmmmm.” Dean stretched out a hand and cascaded his fingers through Sam’s hair. He brushed it back away from his forehead and tucked it behind his ears only to watch as his hair fell back against his forehead when Sam leaned forward. “Talk to me, Sammy. I know that something obviously had to have happened for the room to look like a bomb went off.”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Dad.” 

“Yeah, I kinda guessed that unless you took up snorting coke and vandalism.” Dean’s attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears when even he didn’t find it as funny as he had in his head a moment before. “Seriously, though, what the hell happened to make him do this. He wouldn’t waste perfectly good coke if he could help it.”

Sam loosened his grip on his knees and allowed his legs to stretch out in front of him. “He came in here and I was doing my homework. He asked where you were and I told him that you were working. Then he asked how you got here and I told him by Uncle Bobby’s car and then he flipped out.” 

It wasn’t exactly unheard of for John to lose his shit for no good reason, but even this seemed like a stretch even for John’s antics. There was something about this story that Dean didn’t believe. He didn’t want to call Sam out and he was sure that his brother had reason for lying to him, but it was going to do neither one of them any good unless Dean got the bottom of it. He couldn’t be with Sam every minute of every day and it was in these moments that shit usually hit the fan so to speak.

Dean let out a long sigh and brought his hand from his forehead down his face while he groaned. Sometimes he struggled to believe that this was really his life. “You hurt or anything,” he fretted, looking Sam up and down with scrutiny.

Sam ducked his head away from his brother’s curiosity ridden gaze. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Dean. I can hold my own.”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Easy there, tiger. You’re not even twelve yet and that means you are still very much a kid. You shouldn’t have to deal with grownup problems.” Even after Dean said it, he realized how unlikely the idea was that could be true. He and Sam were forced to grow up long before they should have and it was all thanks to John so that he could chase the hunter’s life and that included partying, women, drugs, and alcohol. Dean had tried his best for so long to look past that and separate the hunter from his father until one day he could look past it no longer. 

Sam looked around at the room while Dean appeared lost in his own thoughts. His fingers curled into his elbows as his nails dug down, skin turning white thanks to the pressure. “Can I ask you something, Dean?” 

“Shoot.”

“Is everyone’s family fucked up?”

Shock coursed through Dean like a bolt of unrestrained lightning. Never before had he heard his brother curse like that and it made him uneasy at the thought. It was him that was always cynical with awful language. He always thought that Sam was immune to becoming like him and John, yet it seemed that the whole argument of nature vs. nurture was tipping the scales toward the nurture side of the argument. 

“Sammy, I-I don’t know whether or not our family is fucked up—“

“Seriously, Dean? Look around you!” Sam motioned with outstretched arms to the chaos around him. “You think that a normal family lives in a motel room with drugs all around and a father who hunts things that I would read in fiction books? Does any part of that seem normal to you?!”

Unsure what to say to possibly make it better, Dean settled on gripping Sam’s shoulder firmly. Sam was unable to push Dean off and his half-hazard attempts were futile. “Not everyone’s life is what you see in the movies. Maybe our family is worse than others, but I can tell you that its gotta be better than others as well.”

“I don’t see how,” Sam muttered darkly.

“We have each other and Bobby. What else could we possibly need?” Dean decided not to comment on the fact that they probably could use food, guidance, and a life that didn’t revolve around hunting monsters. Unfortunately that was the way the cards had been dealt and Dean needed to turn the crap that he had been given into a winning hand. 

Sam shrugged. “We could ask for dad to die in a hole.” 

“I don’t think that we’re going to be that fortunate,” joked Dean softly as he curled his hand into a fist and gingerly socked Sam on the shoulder playfully. “Now, how about we get this dump cleaned up? It would just be our luck that a social worker or some shit would show up and catch us completely off guard.”

Sam let out a low groan, head rolling so far that his neck cracked from the building pressure. “Why is it that we always have to clean up after Dad when he makes the mess?”

Dean longed to have a better answer for Sam than the truth, but he feared that may be futile. It would take more strength to come up with a fabricated lie that Sam could see through than tell him the lame truth. “Because like it or not this is the price that we pay for staying together. We have to keep up this ‘happy family’ facade or they’ll take you away. Is that what you want?”

Sam grew ominously quiet with his head bowed forward. “No.”

Dean clapped his hands together in an effort to make everything seem at least a little brighter. “Great! Then let’s hop to it.” He jumped to his feet and felt his legs groan in protest. This was the last thing that he wanted to be doing when he got home, yet this was what he had to do. 

While Sam tackled the kitchen, Dean headed to the bathroom, knowing that it was John’s favorite spot to shoot up. Sure enough he saw dirty needles littering the floor, just waiting for either him or Sam to step on them. Turning up his nose, Dean picked up the needles and squirted the remaining liquid inside into the sink before tossing them into the trash. He was sure that there was some sort of procedure for sharp needles, but right now he just wanted them out of the motel room. 

Dean then noticed white powder all over the vanity that held the sink. Frustration boiled inside him, rolling in his stomach until Dean felt like he was going to be sick. He pushed it down and grabbed a wash cloth and ran it under the water. He then began to use the dampened cloth to wipe the powder toward the sink that was still running. Dean watched as the cloudy water washed down the drain. It was more of a relieving feeling than Dean was expecting if he was being honest with himself. It signaled him washing away their immediate problems even though Sam’s words still shook him to his core. 

‘Is everyone’s family fucked up?’ 

It wasn’t just that he had never heard Sam use that sort of language before; it was the fact that Sam had asked that question with such a defeated quality to his voice that Dean didn’t know how to respond. He had never wanted the weight of the situation that he had found himself in to wear on Sam and that was exactly what was happening. Dean had tried to shield Sam from it as much as possible, yet the seriousness of their lives had come creeping back without warning. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, water still running while he gripped either side of the sink. He glanced up to see his reflection in the mirror to see the tired look in his eyes combined with the general stress that he swore that he could see weighing on his shoulders. It was an impressive weight that Dean feared he would never get rid of. 

Dean ran his fingers under the water before raising a knuckle to rub at his eye. It did little to no good, but he was relieved that he was able to stop the evidence of him almost crying before it started. He let out a hearty snuffle and shook his head to clear it.

“Time to get back to work,” he announced to no one in particular. 

He reached out to grab the rag and continued cleaning up John’s shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this installment and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
